


The Queen's Godswood

by The1Before



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fucked timeline, OOC, Rare Pairings, Smut, Wouldn't you be if you were married to Robert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1Before/pseuds/The1Before
Summary: Temporary Title and Summary (probably)"Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good works." - Unknown.Brienne holds the difficult position in navigating between the two...especially with Jaime Lannister next to her.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters and locations are not mine. Not-for-profit Fanfic. Un-betaed, mistakes are mine.
> 
> AN: WTF IDK, the idea wouldn't leave my head.

_“There are those who say fate is something beyond our command, that destiny is not our own. But I know better. Our fate lives within us…you only have to be brave enough to see it.” – Merida,_ Brave.

_“We know what we are but know not what we may be.” – Ophelia, Hamlet._

_“Oh time, thou must untangle this not I_

_It is too hard a knot for me t’untie!” – Viola, Twelfth Night_

 

 

_*~*~*~*~*~*~_

**I**

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Brienne watched as the guests swirled around her, their laughter and jubilance unable to penetrate the hollow bubble that she surrounded herself. She sat alone on the dais and watched as her husband roared out in laughter amongst the sycophants that surrounded him, his drunken hands grabbing the serving wench that was plastered at his side. While her younger self would have felt anger and humiliation upon the disrespect that her husband was showing her, her weak maiden heart shattered alongside her dreams, all she felt was numb and resigned.

She knew going into this marriage what was going to be her fate, what her husband was going to be like. He even had the audacity to explain it to her the night before their wedding. That he was never going to love her, might respect her only for the fact that she was the daughter of his most faithful bannerman and it was his duty to marry a loyal wife. _To spite the old lion and shame his whore of a daughter for choosing you._

Brienne looked towards the side of the Great Hall where Lord Tywin Lannister sat, his emerald eyes- so familiar on another- cold and calculatingly watching those around him. The seats around him yawningly empty save for the lone occupant by his side, for his sons were elsewhere or otherwise too busy with duty. While one was off somewhere having fun with wenches and sellswords with a belly full of wine, the other was seeing to his duty for Queen and country. Brienne gave a surreptitious look around the hall, but could not find the golden man in his silver armour. Brienne looked back towards the Lannisters in time for another emerald gaze to lock into her sapphire ones. This one embittered and obviously imbibed.  

Brienne remembered the time when the realm learned of Cersei Lannister’s treachery.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 _It was over. Brienne breathed heavily in her helm as she watched Thoros of Myr wrap Balon Greyjoy in chains, his driftwood crown sitting sloppily on his head, his downtrodden face hidden behind his straggly hair. He was a sorry sight, a man trying to rise beyond his position and found himself lower than he began. Brienne would have felt pity for him, she might just a bit, but all she felt was anger and frustration._ Men! Have we not suffered enough from one war, we are so eager for another! _Brienne stood back as Jorah Mormont forced Balon onto his knees before King Robert Baratheon and Lord Eddard Stark. Her heavy breathing kept her from hearing what was hissed between them, so Brienne forced herself to hold her breath._

_“You may take my head, but you cannot name me traitor,” Balon Greyjoy declared on his knees, looking up at the imposing stature of King Robert. “No Greyjoy ever swore fealty to a Baratheon!”_

_“Swear one now or lose that stubborn head of yours,” answered the King. The looked up towards a commotion. They watched as two children, in the hands of King Robert’s men, thrashed about in their restraints. The girl was particularly vicious, her screams piercing their ears, her teeth continuously biting the hand in front of her. They suddenly turned limp at the sight of Balon Greyjoy on his knees._ These must be his children _thought Brienne. At the sight of his children, Balon’s demeanour suddenly changed. Gone was the resistance and pride, and all they saw was fear and resignation._

_Brienne sighed in relief as Balon was escorted out of the tower, his children by his side, but her relief turned into apprehension as King Robert and Lord Eddard personally congratulated Thoros and Jorah Mormont, the king bellowing out knighthoods. Panicked, Brienne looked for a way out but only found the punctured wall which was beside the group and the tower entrance, which was partially blocked by rubble. She barely made a step before the King turned to her._

_“You boy!” King Robert bellowed. “Who are you?”_

_“He was very brave, Your Grace,” Jorah Mormont declared. “He protected Jacelyn Bywater when he lost his hand. Took down three krakens for every of my one.” Brienne felt herself blush in reaction to the compliment._

_“Really?! Come here boy, let me see the saviour of the day.” Brienne had no choice but to comply at King Robert’s boisterous prompting. “Sunbursts and crescent moons?” Brienne froze as King Robert gazed at the crest on her breastplate. “Didn’t know Selwyn Tarth sent any of his soldiers.” Brienne closed her eyes in resignation and lifted the helm of her head. She opened her eyes to find all the men looking back at her with shock. She was slightly grateful that none of the faces held any disgust. It was usually the first reaction most men had when they see her face._

_“Lady Brienne?!” King Robert was the first to get out of his shock._

_“Your Grace,” was her resigned answer. Brienne closed her eyes and faced her fate._

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

 

 _Brienne watched the celebrations around her in a daze, the people of Lannisport celebrating the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion as it was named. She was a knight._ A _real_ Knight! _She could still feel the heavy Warhammer that King Robert gently placed upon her shoulders as he recited the Knight’s Oath, to which she shakenly responded._

_“Don’t know if we can call you Ser as that title is towards men,” King Robert deliberated. “Best we stick to it until we find something far more appropriate for your sex.” Then she was dragged along with the other newly minted knights towards the tourney in Lannisport to celebrate the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion._

_Her ruminations were interrupted when the drunken King Robert dragged her, Lord Eddard, Ser Jorah and Ser Thoros, and his Kingsguard towards Casterly Rock. “Let’s celebrate with the finest wine the Lannisters have to offer, in the finest finery Tywin Lannister can pull out of his golden ass!” Brienne had no choice as to follow the group towards Casterly Rock, but was in such a fine mood that she followed without complaint._

 

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

 

_Brienne felt the bottom of the world being pulled from her feet and the wine she had consumed wanted to erupt from her mouth. There in front of her was the Queen. Queen Cersei Lannister, being fucked by two men, her pregnant belly barely visible in between the flesh that surrounded her. The screams and laughter and moans and cries could not drown out the sound of the king’s bellow._

_“What the FUCK is going on!”_

_The three before them stilled and looked towards the commotion. They looked annoyed, particularly the queen, but their annoyance turned to shock and fear when they realised to whom it was that entered. The golden men scrambled away from the bed that held the queen, their faces turned away in fear as they quickly picked up their clothing and ran out of the chambers. Brienne blushed red and kept her gaze on everything else than on the queen, who quickly covered herself with the neglected blanket. If she had kept her eyes on the queen she would have missed the look on the Kingslayer’s face. The king began to bellow at his wife, who screamed back, but Brienne ignored that as she kept her focus on Ser Jaime’s face. His handsome face was chalk white and frozen, but it was his eyes that froze her. His emerald eyes looked broken and dull, looking like a man whose whole world was stolen from him._

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Hours later, after Lord Eddard dragged the king away in seclusion to cool off, they all convened at Casterly Rock’s own throne room. The only people in attendance are all the people who were in the room (minus the two men, Robert couldn’t care less who they were only to note they were obviously from Lannister lineage with the way they looked) and Lord Tywin Lannister. Brienne didn’t want to be there, her attendance was unnecessary, but as it was a direct order from the king, who was she to argue? The golden throne that several of the Lannister kings sat previous was now being seated by King Robert Baratheon, much to Tywin Lannister’s disgust judging by his minutiae facial expressions. Tywin Lannister stood by him and his Kingsguard stood on either side of the throne. Brienne watched in the sidelines with Ser Jorah Mormont and Ser Thoros of Myr as the Queen was escorted to the middle of the hall and left to stand on her own in front of the king. Cersei Lannister stood proudly in front of the king and his men without an ounce of shame and humiliation, her entire being swathed in red and gold._

_“Cersei of the House Lannister!” King Robert broke the silence with a bellow. “You are hence forth stripped of your title as Queen-”_

_“What?!” Cersei screeched in shock, even Lord Tywin looked particularly surprised, Lord Eddard looked beleaguered and grim._

_“-by tomorrow, the citadel, the High Septon and the realm shall know of your treachery and our annulment.” King Robert finished as though there were no interruptions. “Joffrey shall hence forth be known as Hill and so shall your unborn child.”_

_“Robert you cannot do this!”_ Lady _Cersei screamed._

_“I.AM.THE.KING!” all fell silent and still at the King’s roar. “I have had to deal with treacherous squids. I didn’t think I had to deal with treacherous whores as well.”_

_“Something you are familiar with no doubt,” Cersei said spitefully. The King looked so enraged, his face was blotched red and he clenched his palms so tightly it turned white. “You let Balon Greyjoy go after his treachery, but you would not give me - your wife - another chance? How is that fair?”_

_“Fair?!” the King boomed, Lord Eddard twitched to calm the king down, “Balon Greyjoy’s home is naught but a pile of rubble. Balon Greyjoy’s eldest boys are dead. Balon Greyjoy’s youngest son will be taken away from him! You think you’re being unfairly treated?  You are lucky that the debt you owe me, is not paid with any more than your fall from yon high.” Brienne didn’t think anyone saw King Robert’s eye shift minutely down before looking back up to Cersei’s face. But apparently Lady Cersei did when her face paled and she protected her belly with both hands. “I wipe my hands clean of you and return you to your father.” Tywin Lannister’s face was stone, but Brienne can see the coldness in his eyes as he looked down at his daughter. King Robert closed his eyes and turned away and suddenly, in Brienne’s eyes, he looked so old and weary._

_“Tell me Cersei, tell me and look me in the eye. Is Joffrey my son? Is the babe in your belly mine?” Silence was his answer as Cersei sobbed through clenched teeth. Brienne watched as Cersei, through her tears, looked away towards her brother, who kept his eyes facing the back of the hall, before looking back at the king whose eyes are upon her._

_“Yes,” Cersei answered, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks. King Robert stood up and walked down towards Lady Cersei, his steps echoing in the cavernous hall. He stopped next to Cersei and moved to gently caress Cersei’s cheek before clenching her jaw and pulled her face close to his._

_“I don’t believe you.” The King hissed in her ear, before jerking her to the side and walked out of the hall without looking back. His Kingsguard following and giving the once-queen a wide berth. Lady Cersei, who fell onto the ground thankfully landing away from her belly, stayed where she sat and began to scream and cry. Brienne wanted to help the poor woman off the cold floor, but Ser Thoros held her by the elbow and pulled her along with the rest of the crowd, leaving the grieving once-queen alone with her father._

 

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

 

 

“A copper star for your thoughts?” Brienne looked up to find Renly Baratheon standing in front of her. Brienne could not help but smile warmly at the Lord of Storm’s End. As a young girl, the moment that the youngest Baratheon came to Tarth she had been infatuated with his easy going personality and friendly smile. She would often dream of him becoming in love with her, despite her looks, and sweep her off her feet and marry her.

“You know me my lord,” she gently teased, her face expressionless but her tone warm. He was but a few who could get it out of her. “It’s not enough to get you a silver stag.” He burst out in laughter, as though she had something extremely humorous. She could see in the corner of her eye young Ser Loras looking up at them.

“I’m not sure about that, your grace,” he replied back with an easy smile. Brienne felt herself twitch at the moniker. _Your Grace_. _Queen_. Such empty titles if you don’t feel deserved of such or the role itself held no meaning. She would have told him to call her name, or even the nickname for which he called her when they were younger. As such she brushed it aside, such things were not meant to last when they grew up. When they are here in King’s Landing. “I thought it too cruel for Robert to allow her to come back here unsolicited.” Brienne looked up to see Renly watching where Cersei ordered another pitcher of wine, while her father ignored her entirely. “Now I find it a warranted punishment for the pitiable creature.”

“Pity is the last emotion I feel for her,” Brienne whispered, _perhaps sympathetic_. “Nor I think is the last thing Lady Cersei wanted anyone to feel for her.”

“I hope the celebration is to your liking?” He asked, probably sensing this topic an unwanted subject for discussion and changed accordingly.

Brienne looked around, taking in all the details she ignored in favour of the big celebration. 10 years. A tourney to mark the 10 year anniversary of the end of Robert’s Rebellion. 10 years since Robert lost the love of his life.

All around herald the colours of the House of Baratheon. Black and gold everywhere. Decorated with such a flair, it could only be done with Renly’s hand.

“I see your touch in everything here,” she knew it wasn’t an answer, it wasn’t really in her taste, but Renly’s smile grew larger as though she paid him the highest compliment. “Did you organise the tourney as well?”

Renly barked out a laugh. “Dear Gods no, I leave that to Jon Arryn, or if I’m that desperate Robert.” They exchanged a look. They knew Robert would not bother himself on such trivial matters. If he wanted a tourney, he would wave his hands and let everyone else organise it. Brienne could see the reasoning behind marking the occasion with a large celebration, but she knew how much it cost Robert to bring himself out of his chambers and into the public. _I would have to personally thank the wineries in overstocking the cellars. Then have Petyr Baelish oversee the costs_. “But I would have to thank Ser Barristan Selmy on my newly acquired winnings.” Renly raised his glass and saluted to someone on the other side of the hall. When Brienne turned it was to find Lord Tyrion returning it with a mocking tilt to his head.

“That was an easy bet,” Brienne gently admonished. “You knew Lord Tyrion would never bet against his brother.”

“Just as much as I knew Ser Jaime would never beat the old man.” Renly replied back.

“Are you saying Ser Jaime threw the joust just so that Ser Barristan would win?” Brienne scowled.

“Are you saying the Kingslayer has enough chivalry in him to do such an unchivalrous thing?” Brienne scowled harder at his sarcasm, her palms clenched in anger. _Like you know the meaning of knightly chivalry?_ Robert’s boisterous laughter brought Brienne back to where they were, and she cleared her face with any expression and eased her body. It would not do for the court to know what she was thinking. There were enough spies and twittering little birds in the Red Keep for even the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch to know any weaknesses concerning the queen by the next day.

“Apologies your grace,” Renly did sound remorseful, but Brienne remained unmoved, despite herself. “I should not have said that, I know Ser Jaime is your favourite.” Brienne tried not to react to that, even when she could feel the rapid beating of her heart.

“Ser Jaime is the Lord Commander of my Queensguard,” Brienne said tonelessly and added before Renly could reply. “Do not presume that any sort of favouritism, present or otherwise, blinds me to the true nature of a man’s being,” Brienne hissed.   

“Gods save us from your naiveté,” Renly muttered under his breath, his voice soft enough to believe that Brienne did not hear. “He is a Lannister,” he explained in a tone as though he was speaking to a child. “They would take _any_ opportunity presented to them, especially since your Queensguard do not hold the same restraints as the King’s.” Brienne remained silent.

It was declared by the Hand of the King that the Queen shall have her own guard and that the rules of the Kingsguard shall not be applied to them. Meaning they shall be free to take wives, have a family and be free to hold lands. If she didn’t know Lord Arryn any better, Brienne would have taken it as an insult. “ _It means the men will not last long to run the risk of being rumoured of fucking the queen,” Ser Jaime whispered in her ear the night after a new guard was recruited in replacing another who was to be wed. It was the third in her tenor as Queen._

_“How about your reputation?” she parried back, as sharp as the ones she delivers in their sparring. Ser Jaime’s grin was as sharp as a knife._

_“Don’t worry about my reputation my queen, its already in shambles. Being your Lord Commander is seen as a step up than my previous standing.”_

“Apologies my Lord,” Brienne said dismissively, “I have been neglecting my duties.” She gave a shallow curtsey and left before Renly could anger her further. The crowd parted for her and didn’t do anything further then give her a bow or curtsey and a brief ‘your grace’ before leaving her alone, for they saw the expression on her face that said it would not do to disturb her. Feeling stifled and breathless and ignoring her discreet Queensguard, Brienne left the throne room.

For a moment Brienne stood still and breathed in the nightly air of Kings Landing, but its stench was enough to make her gag and she swiftly turned to the only place that she felt safe in her solitude.

The Godswood.

No one went there anymore, save for herself, since before the time of King Aerys II Targaryen. During his period of piousness, Aerys would have had burned down the sacred grounds had it not been the intervention of Tywin Lannister. Aerys was not happy.

As it was, Brienne learned the fine arts of tending to the heart tree and its surrounding woods. She was never one for such delicate activities save that of fighting, but during those moments where even the sword didn’t stave off the feelings of bitterness and sadness, Brienne went to the Godswood. Since her first expedition into the heart of the godswood, Brienne took the time to study up on how to make this beautiful garden flourish.  Taking advise from the Citadel, to Highgarden and most especially from Winterfell.

And how it flourished! Brienne couldn’t help smiling at the lovely woods that softly passed her as she made her way to the heart tree. Everyday outside her training and royal duties, she would tend to the godswood. The gardeners of the Red Keep would politely offer their assistance, or even try to take over, but she in turn politely refused. Instead, she would be the one to clean the ground, pull out all the weeds and chop all the dead leaves and branches. With her hands, the godswood went from the overgrown, neglected and dying garden to the evergreen woods that stood today. She was there so often that the denizens of the Red Keep would be heard calling it the Queen’s Godswood. Even Robert had declared that it was hers and no one shall enter without the Queen’s express permission. Brienne didn’t want to deprive the godswood to the few who worship the old gods or those that wanted their solitude. Therefore, she included that people had free permission to enter but only if she was not there.

As such if the people saw the Queensguard at the entrance of the godswood, they knew never to enter. Like now.

Brienne paused at the foot of the heart tree, already feeling the tension leave her. The largest of all oaks in the country (as she was told), it stood the tallest tree in the woods, its girth so large it would take ten people to make a complete circle of the trunk. She placed a loving hand on the rough surface of the trunk, it held within it Brienne’s most prized possession, only one other who knew of its existence and.

“Didn’t know you were so devoted to Old Gods, Your Grace.”

Brienne tried not to react to the familiar voice behind her, the only outward reaction was the tightening of her shoulders. She kept her back to the intruder, instead kept her eyes forward on the few smokeberry vines left on the trunk of the oak.

“Devoted may not be the apt word for it,” she solemnly answered. “I respect them, something you obviously don’t have,” she couldn’t help adding, feeling a tingling of frustration that her solitude was disrupted. But the rest of her could not help feeling grateful and something else that sent electricity through her.

“In my opinion,” Brienne felt the voice suddenly behind her. “Respect is something that must be earnt and the gods have not done anything to warrant such from myself.”

“And what _do_ you respect?” she asked, feeling rather curious. She jumped when hands wrapped around her, a body pressed firmly against her back, solid and warm.

“You,” a hot whisper on her neck. She tried not to react, but her body betrayed her as the hot touch of lips on her neck made her shiver and quake.

“Only because the role as Queen demands it,” Brienne was shocked at the amount of bitterness that accompanied those words. By the way the person behind her froze, he too registered the tone.

“No,” he denied. “It because you’ve earned it ten times over,” he said against her neck, his lips moving down her skin.

“A hundred times over,” his teeth came into play, its hard edge scrapping against her skin, leaving her skin tingling in its wake.

“A thousand.” His tongue made her gasp and she held on desperately from moaning out loud. His hands were not idle either, as they moved against her body. She was not one for voluminous gowns (she much preferred men’s garb) with thick fabric, therefore only a couple of thin layers were in between his hands to her skin. One hand was increasingly clenching her breast and the other was pressing against her core.

“A respect that’s echoed through the heart of every citizen of this gods’ forsaken country for their beloved queen,” his smooth voice purred. She tried to respond to such a fallacy, but his touch rendered her speechless and thoughtless. All she could focus on was him, his passions pressed against her in these woods, where anyone could see.

 _Where anyone could see_.

Brienne opened her eyes and remembered where she was, she willed her body to detangle, to retreat, but he would not let her as a hand tightened against her womanhood, his fingers practically entering her.

“The guards!” she gasped out as fingers began to pinch her nipple through the fabric.

“ _Your_ guards know never to enter this place when you are here,” he whispered. “Especially when I come.” Dread began to surge within her at the implication.

“Then they know-” she felt true fear as thoughts of betrayal, treason and death entered her mind.

“They know never to utter a single word of disrespect about their queen or risk the loss of their tongue and cock,” at the word ‘cock’, he pressed _his_ rhythmically against her backside. “Besides, they love you too much,” he added, his voice was a dark hiss.

“Do not be absurd,” she snapped. “It is out of duty they protect me, not love!” She gasped when suddenly her world spun and she found herself pressed back against the heart tree, the cold, rough surface on her back in contrast with the warm hardness pressed on her front. Brienne looked at the man in front of her, seeing him for the first time today. Clad in the formal uniform of the Queensguard, save the symbols on his décolletage that denoted his role as the Lord Commander.  His beautiful face clenched in anger, his emerald eyes full of fire. He looked demented. A monster.

A god.

“You don’t know how much they would _love_ to be in my position right now,” he hissed. Brienne looked at him in confusion. _He almost sounded jealous_. “All of them, stripped down and submit to their queen as she does as she pleases upon their person.” Brienne could not help the images that sprung in her mind. Images of her Guard, young and fit and well endowed, following her _every_ command. “You would love that, don’t you,” he practically hissed in her face. In the face of his sudden anger, all that was left was to meet it with her own. Her anger fuelled her as she pushed him hard away from her. _The nerve of him! He said the words, not me! He angered himself!_

“You have no right!” she growled. “You have no right to judge me! I am the Queen!”

“There you are,” he muttered triumphantly, which Brienne did not hear.

“I am no whore!” she screamed, her anger fuelled by the way he did not argue. He simply prowled towards her. His lips in that despicable smirk he had, which did not take any of his beauty away. If anything, it made him more beautiful. Despite being taller, broader and stronger than him, Brienne did not stop him when he pressed himself forward, his ultimate goal clear when his eyes were focused on her lips.

“I am not your sister!” she hissed into his mouth. She watched as he froze, his emerald eyes wide and staring straight at her sapphire ones.

Brienne witnessed as the lion shattered into a million pieces, the animal disappearing from his eyes and what was left was him, the man.

Jaime.

Regret ran through her veins the moment her words fell out of her mouth. Brienne never used his sister as a weapon against Jaime in any of their previous arguments. Since the moment when Jaime told her truths about himself, Brienne promised herself that she would never utter those truths against him, she would never utter those truths period. But here she broke that promise and it hurt. But the only justification, flimsy at best, she had was that the undercurrent of his words was the fact he compared her to the previous queen, to Cersei.

Jaime looked at her blankly, and it took her whole being not to grab on to him when he stepped back and the chill of the night flowed in the canyon that emerged between them.

No longer able to stand at the way he was looking at her, Brienne looked down at the red Dragon’s breath that littered the ground, the flowers covering the exposed roots of the heart tree.

“And I’m all the more glad for it,” the sound of his voice broke her out of her misery and she looked up to find him closer, his eyes now full of warmth. She gasped when she registered the words that he uttered.

“What?” she whispered. Jaime stepped forward, his eyes just as warm as his smile.

“It means that she has not entirely corrupted me,” he muttered. Brienne was still confused, which was probably why Jaime was able to press back into her space. “It means what I feel has nothing to do with her, has nothing to do with you being the ‘replacement’ queen.

“It means that what my heart and cock feel has everything to do with you, wench.” Before she could react to his words, Jaime pressed his lips onto hers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is only [her] beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though it happened after the fact and whether you believe it is noncon, I've added the tag anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

II

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

Immediately after making sure that she was decent enough for a reappearance (Jaime just smirked, his tantalisingly naked form lying among the red dragon’s breath flowers that made up their temporary bed, as she re-dressed into her gown and fixed her hair) she walked through the entrance of the godswood, her stature as dignified as a queen should be as she made her way back to the celebrations. Yet again she ignored the discreet Queensguard that followed, Jaime’s words allowing her the strength to not feel ashamed for what they _might_ know.

At the entrance to the great hall, she could see that her absence was not noted, for the high-spirited celebrations continued without her. For once she was relieved of this, she could blend back into the crowd (as much as her stature can afford it) as though she never left it in the first place.

Brienne lifted a glass of wine from a passing server and took a small sip, savouring the bursting flavours of the Arbor Gold that touched her tongue. Unlike many who bought and partook the wine, she was never one to just guzzle the entire glass without tasting it. Back in Tarth, Arbor Gold and Dornish Red were luxuries that were so expensive, even for a noble House like Tarth, that Lord Selwyn would only buy one barrel each and each would take five years to consume in its entirety. _Savour the flavour BB_ he would say to his daughter. _Take your time when you have it, for you will not know when it will end_. This was a piece of advice that his daughter took to heart, for most things in her life.

Looking across the hall, she could see that the crowd were slowly coming to the realisation that their queen was present. Taking a fortifying deep breath, Brienne slowly wrapped herself with the armour as queen could afford her.

Just as she could feel her armour near completion the fragrant smell of red dragon’s breath touched her nose and she registered who has finally arrived at the party.

“Your Grace.” The undercurrent of his otherwise blank tone of voice nearly was her undoing. But grasping at the last tendrils of propriety, Brienne ignored him and instead focused her gaze across the hall towards her husband, whose drunken face was now pressed firmly into the enlarged bosom of the whore next to him.

“Ser Jaime,” she replied just as blankly. She was seeing nothing as she could feel him standing next to her, far enough away for proprietary’s sake.

“I see your husband partaking in the celebrations wholeheartedly,” he remarked, his mockery unhidden.

“Yes, so I see,” she said drily as across the hall, Robert guzzled the tankard, the liquid pouring out of his mouth just as much as he was drinking it. Brienne saw a momentary look of disgust on faces of the sycophants around him, disappearing before the king could see it.

“I hope he enjoys it while it lasts,” he remarked. Brienne looked to him in confusion. She watched as a mysterious smile appeared on Jaime’s face before he bowed and left her side. Feeling unsettled, Brienne turned back to look at her husband.  

Her body had no time to react as the woman that devoted herself into pressing into the King’s side plunged a knife into Robert’s large stomach. Amidst Robert’s screams of agony was the woman’s own shrieks. Brienne couldn’t discern the words that were falling out of the woman’s mouth, indifferent to the chaos that ensued as she plunged the knife a second time into the King’s belly. This time she forced herself into action when she saw the Kingsguard grab the shrieking harlot and forced her away. Uncaring for the glass of wine she dropped, Brienne pushed away the converging crowd and kneeled beside the felled king. Brienne hurriedly pressed her hands on the wounds to stem the flow of blood, but she knew it was in vein as wounds to the stomach were fatal. Brienne registered the call for the Grand Maester, but all her focus was on Robert’s face, his features in a grimace but his eyes telling a different story.

 _Resignation and acceptance_.

_Relief._

“Robert,” she called out when those eyes began to lose focus. “Robert, stay awake!”

“I always knew,” he croaked, a sliver of blood coming out of his mouth. “I always knew I would eat, drink and whore myself into an early grave,” he chuckled as though it was especially funny.

“Robert stay awake,” Brienne ordered, trying to ignore his words and the blood the seeped between her fingers. “The maester is on his way, just stay awake!”

 “Brienne,” he said solemnly, his face unfamiliarly serious. “Brienne I’m so sorry.” Brienne looked at him in confusion.

“Brienne of House Tarth!” Robert announced loudly, so loud that even the people at the back of the hall could have heard. “First of Her Name,” a loud gasp resounded in the hall as they began to under the implication of his words, Brienne herself froze in shock. “Queen of the Andals, the Rhoyner and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” Brienne watched as Robert gave her the first true smile in their marriage. “Long may she reign,” were his last words before he closed his eyes for the last time.

By the time Grand Maester Pycelle came to them it was too late, King Robert was dead and all Brienne could do was cry and sob into his robes.

 

 

Brienne felt numb as she stood in foot of the body of her _late_ husband. The Great Sept of Baelor fully furnished with lit candles and the pungent smell of incense in the air. She could feel the eyes of the Kingsguard, the Faith and the Gods on her, but she ignored them in favour of Robert’s pale face, his eyes covered by the decorated stones. While others would have felt apprehensive by the silence, she felt comforted. It gave her sense of protection, a shield against the outside world.

Brienne knew, especially in the presence of the Seven, that she should feel guilty. Particularly when just moments before Robert died, Jaime Lannister- _her Queensguard_ -was fucking her in the godswood. Words of love and passion hissed between them as his cock plunged into her. Especially at Jaime’s mysterious last words to her before chaos ensued.

From what she was told, after Jon Arryn had the perpetrator interrogated, was that the woman was pregnant, with Robert’s child. The woman confronted Robert about it, telling him of her love for him, that he should get rid of Brienne so that they may marry, as it should be. But Robert spurned her, threw her away, and rejected her claims that the child was his.

 

 

_“He advised her to visit Pycelle,” Lord Jon told her as they watched the Silent Sisters work on the body. “To get rid of the problem.”_

_“Problem?” Brienne could not help scoff. “Robert never was one who held back his words.” Jon hummed in return and Brienne felt a sliver of guilt, for Jon Arryn was sure to be grieving as Robert was like a son to him, but duty held the Hand together and spurned him forward. “Why did not Robert recognise her?”_

_“When has Robert ever remembered any of the whores he has bedded?” Jon remarked. Brienne had no words to that so she stayed silent._

_“Robert never would have forced her to get rid of the child-you know his habit of leaving behind unclaimed bastards-if it was not the mention of you.” Brienne looked to him in shock and confusion. “He may not have loved you (something that no longer made her flinch), but he respected you enough to never dishonour you in such a way. You were the deserved Queen, unlike the previous.”_

 

 

There was no further investigation necessary, the woman was sentenced to die the following morning, despite the growing child in her belly. Brienne was not present when the King’s Justice swung his sword and cut the woman’s head off. It was told that the woman continued to justify her actions even when she was forced to bend over on the block.

 

 

_“Justice and revenge, was what I gathered to be the sum of her explanation,” Lord Varys said, his flowery voice not giving away his opinion on the matter. “She was given an avenue and she un-hesitantly took the opportunity given to her.”_

_“Did she have any family?” Brienne asked. “What was her name?”_

_“She never gave it,” Lord Varys answered. “But my little birds ascertained the whereabouts of her family.”_

_“Do not tell me,” she ordered immediately. “Do everything you can to see that they will not be punished for her actions. Take them away to safety if you have to, preferably away from Kings Landing.” If Brienne was not distracted, she would have noted the reverence on Varys’ face before he bowed and did what was bid._

 

 

She knew there were meetings conducted behind her back regarding the throne, if Robert’s proclamation was legitimate, if she was even worthy of it. She never felt she deserved the crown, despite what she was told.

 

 

_“The people love you, they love their queen,” Jaime whispered against the folds of her cunt. His lips and his tongue was a distraction she tried to keep away as she looked across the throne room for signs of intruders. Here she sat on the Iron Throne, her crown sitting precariously on her head, her robes wide open, her breasts bare and her legs spread apart…_

_…and Jaime Lannister-her Lord Commander, her knight- kneeling before her, paying homage to his queen by worshipping her cunt._

_“And it seems even the throne itself loves you,” Brienne opened her eyes to find what kept Jaime’s lips on her. She turned to see her hand was clenching the arm of the chair. Brienne opened her hands, her fingers unwrapping one of the swords it was attached to. She was shocked to find that apart for a red line that marked where the blade was digging into her palm, there was no wound, no laceration that marred her hand. Before she could react to this phenomenon, she moaned out loud as Jaime increased the application of his tongue and Brienne forgot all about it as they spent the rest of the night there._

_The Iron Throne the only witness to Jaime Lannister worshipping his Queen._

   

“Your Grace,” the heavy fabric of her mourning gown swished around her as Brienne turned to look at the Hand of the King. “Your Grace,” he intoned again when he got her attention. “I have just come from the meeting of the Great Council-” Brienne tried not to roll her eyes and turned her back to him, by the sound of his footsteps it did not deter him. _The Great Council of 293 AC_ was what they called it. Robert’s body had barely cooled before the Major Lords of Westeros were summoned to Kings Landing to not only Robert’s funeral, but to gather and determine the legitimacy of her crown. It said that Lord Eddard himself rode faster than the predicted month of travel it takes from Winterfell to Kings Landing by two weeks. His arrival this morning was met with the swift escort to the Small Council chamber where all the Major Lords have been ensconced all day. Brienne looked at the entrance to find the sky was the colour of orange, red and pink.

“-it’s decided that Robert’s last words and Will be permitted.”

“Will?” Brienne asked when she registered his words, for now she ignored the implication to the rest of what he said.

“King Robert had a Will written mere days after your nuptials, that in the event of his premature death you and your bloodline will ascend to the throne.” Brienne felt her heart beat faster in her breast. She was not one an expert into figuring out hidden meanings to words spoken to her, but in her limited capacity for such even Brienne understood what he meant. _Robert what did you know?_

“W-was there any contention?” she stuttered out, turning away from Lord Arryn’s knowing gaze.

“Oh plenty, but mostly from Lord Stannis,” he answered coming to stand next to her. “But the other Lords rejected his claims. Siting that though his wife had given him a daughter, they could not in truth have faith in his wife in baring a male heir as Lady Selyse had already miscarried three male stillborns. And everybody _knows_ about Lord Renly.” Brienne did not need further explanation as to that. “Therefore, in the end, it was determined that you shall take the throne. Congratulations Your Grace.” His felicitations were met with silence, but Brienne knew the Hand was not expecting any. Her shock held her tongue, her breath stuttered as the weight of their decision had finally come down on her shoulders. She was to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. _Your already were, but now only on your terms._ Taking a deep breath, Brienne squared her shoulder, determined to bear the responsibility. _I will not fail._

“The funeral ceremony is to be tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes, Your Grace and we think it is prudent for your coronation to happen the following day.”

“No,” she immediately rejected. “The coronation will be held in two days after, long enough for the people to accept their new monarch. King Robert deserved _that_ much respect.”

“Your Grace.”   Brienne felt him bow.

“Leave me Lord Arryn and take the Kingsguard with you,” she ordered.

“Your Grace?”

“This will be the last time I will see my husband, I would like the privacy to do so,” she explained pointedly.

“Yes Your Grace,” he said sheepishly. Brienne felt him and the Kingsguard depart and all that was left was silence and the corpse of Robert Baratheon, First of His Name.

 

 

 

Brienne stood on the balcony that faced the Great Sept of Baelor, the whole building glowed in the dark by the power of the thousands of candles that were lit within. Once she could no longer stand the visage of the rotting corpse of her husband, Brienne swiftly made her way back to the Red Keep. At the entrance was the golden litter that was to carry her back to the Keep. Unable to stand the confinement, Brienne decided to ride on horseback despite the protests of her Queensguard. As she rode, she watched as the denizens of King’s Landing came out to watch the Queen and her guards ride past. For a brief moment, she thought there would be protest, they would show their disgust at a creature like her being a queen. But to her surprise none did.

Every man, woman and child that she pass would either bow or curtsey, clumsily as any commoner would, the children throwing flowers at her horse’s feet. None were showing anger or jubilation, but she could read their grief for the loss of their king, but also their quiet awe at the sight of their queen. Not only was it slightly disturbing (were they waiting for Robert’s death?), it was greatly confusing (did they really want her as Queen?). 

For the rest of the evening here she stood, the chilly night breeze blowing in the air through her long straw-like hair empty of ornaments and her simple cloth sleepwear. Many suggested she wear silk as her position demanded, but she detested the fabric, ever since her wedding night.

 

 

_All Brienne could do was lie there silently as Robert hefted his substantial weight off of her and drunkenly picked up his clothing before leaving the room. It did not take long before tears began to run down her cheeks, staining the fabric below her, adding to the stain her maiden’s blood made to the sheets. The darkness became the witness to the newly-crowned queen’s heartbreaking sobs. The pain radiating between her legs were nothing compared to the pain of broken hearts and dreams._

_She didn’t know how long she laid there, her quiet cries the only sound in the room before the door opened. Brienne gasped and tried to move, to cover herself thinking it was her husband, but she cried out at the pain that spiked when she moved._

_“Your Grace.” Through her tears, Brienne opened her eyes to see the Kingslayer rushing to her side. He looked unbelievably terrified and saddened, something that she couldn’t believe he would feel. Especially for her. She couldn’t help flinching when he made a move towards her, but he froze and lifted his palms up as though she was a frightened cornered animal. She probably looked like one._

_It wasn’t until Brienne felt a gentle breeze from the window that she realised her body was exposed to him. She could feel a hot blush spread across herself, feeling shame and disgusted. She heard herself whimper and with shaken hands tried to cover herself, but nothing was close save for the ruined silk nightwear she was forced to wear. She stopped in shock when a warm palm enclosed around hers. Brienne watched in shock as the Kingslayer – Ser Jaime- took off his white cloak with one hand before gently covering her. She looked closely at his face, but his face was emotionless save for his eyes. His glowing emerald eyes were full of fire and impassioned with an emotion she could not understand. When he made a move to remove his hand, she embarrassingly cried out and clenched her hand, afraid he was going to leave her alone. But then he kneeled, gently soothing her with a touch to her cheek._

_“I am not leaving you Your Grace,” he said gently. “I am just going to the other side of the room where the cleaning bowl and water is. You will feel better when we clean you up.” It took an embarrassingly few moments longer of Ser Jaime soothing her before she could unclench her hand. She watched as he moved swiftly, bringing the bowl and pitcher of water to her bedside. Then with economic movements, he took off his armour until all that was left was the leatherwear underneath._

_“I do not think it will be comfortable for you when we clean you up,” he explained to her gently when he saw the confusion on her face. Realisation spread across her face when she understood what he was about to do, but the whole day exhausted her, she no longer had to energy to fight back. Besides, Brienne exposed enough of herself to him and he in turn was being so gentle and gentleman-like that she allowed him to expose her again to clean her body. She dared on look down as he gently but economically cleaned her, instead she looked at his face. She read nothing except resignation and a sort of care. He then gently coaxed in drinking something from a small vial._

_“It’s a small amount of milk of the poppy,” he explained. “You will need to drink it before I go any further.” The implication made her drink the entire thing. Then she held herself still when he began to clean her down there. She was thankful that the milk of the poppy was fast-acting as all she felt was a mild discomfort. Once he was done, he wrapped her in his white cloak again and without any warning he lifted her in his arms. She yelped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders._

_“What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m heavy.”_

_“Don’t worry Your Grace,” he said, a bit of humour seeping into his voice. “I’m strong enough. Besides I don’t think you would like to sleep there, I will take you to your chambers which is not far and no one is outside to witness you,” he added when she panicked at anyone seeing her like this. She calmed down as he slowly walked out of the chambers._

_“Why do you carry milk of the poppy?” she asked sleepily, exhaustion taking over her._

_“I have since my integration into the Kingsguard,” he answered darkly. “I thought it prudent as I have found that Queens have great need for it.” Carried with a gentle sway, Brienne fell asleep in his arms._

 

Brienne was broken out of her ruminations when a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrapped around her.

“You’re always doing that,” she remarked placing a hand on his.

“You make it so easy Your Grace,” he teased. “We should really train you better in sensing what is behind you.”

“If I become better trained, you will end up with an elbow smacking into your person every time you try,” she snarked back. “We wouldn’t want to damage your pretty face, do we?”

“I don’t have a pretty face,” he grumbled. “My face is handsome and manly.” Brienne scoffed but said nothing.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his arms still but his thumbs slowly rubbing against her erect nipples. “I can tell _very well_ that you are cold.”

“I cannot sleep,” she said, her eyes turning back to the Great Sept.

“Excited?” he asked amiably.

“Terrified,” she said honestly.

“Of the coronation?” he asked, sounding confused. “I wouldn’t be, you know what it-”

“On what was done,” she interrupted. He froze behind her, but it didn’t deter her one bit. She had to know. “On what was done to allow me to take the throne in the first place.”

“Your Grace-”

“No,” she said forcibly. She turned around in his arms and looked straight into his eyes. “No _Your Grace_. This is no time for formality.”

“When have we ever been formal?” he jested, but she did not return the joke.

“I need to know the truth Jaime,” she said, her sapphire eyes wide, imploring him. “There is no space other than the truth.”

They looked at each other in silence, a battle of wills erupted. Whilst many times before she would surrender, those times past were never this serious. Never this important. She could tell the moment when his mummer’s farce of a mask dropped and what she saw terrified her and at the same time stimulated her, aroused her.

The dark lion lurking underneath, waiting to be unleashed.

 

 

 

 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks for the VERY late update. But you know what happens...  
> study, exams, work.....RL! *sighs*
> 
> Anyway, I won't be able to update let alone look at my story probably until late November as that's when my my exams end.  
> So here is a chapter to tide you guys over.  
> Thanks to the ones who gave their support and love!
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, I was a bit rushed into adding it.
> 
> T1B

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

III

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Petyr Baelish

 

 

Petyr pushed his face into the silky auburn tresses that made up Catelyn’s hair, unable to keep his hands steady in just one area, unable to resist the allure of her skin. One hand was feeling the contours of her body, as the other was kept on her waist to steady him as he pounded into her cunt.

Cat screamed out his name and Petyr moaned in return.

_I love you Cat!_

_I love you!_

_I love you!_

The sight of her on his bed, all four of her limbs on the sheets, the sweat on the alabaster skin of her back would have been his undoing, so he kept his eyes shut to last longer, to stretch out this moment, to keep her with him as long as possible.

But the feelings of her tight, wet cunt around his cock was too much and the feeling of Catelyn Tully beneath him had him moaning and fucking her faster. Suddenly Cat screamed, her cunt suddenly becoming a vice at the height of her passion and it undid him.

He pulled back, had a tight grip of her hips and viciously pounded into her, his seed released into her womb. For a moment he hoped that a child would spring forth from this union. _A child made between us Cat would be a glorious thing_ he thought.

Petyr moaned in sudden exhaustion and limply laid on the bed, his breath coming out in gasps, but he couldn’t help feeling smug at the way Cat was also gasping. With a soft smile he turned to his companion and for the first time in what felt like hours he opened his eyes.

Suddenly he felt like throwing up, an oily mass of dark disgust was rising out of every pour of his body, as it was not his beloved Catelyn that he saw smiling at him.

It was instead an unworthy substitute for the real Catelyn Tully.

Lysa Arryn.

Unable to stand the sight of her and before she could even think about cuddling up to him, Petyr leapt from the bed. He neatly put on his dressing robes and walked towards the table where his precious wine was kept.

“I love you,” she suddenly proclaimed, but Petyr kept his back to her and grunted in reply as he took a mouthful of the Dornish Red, hoping the taste of her would wash away. It seemed she took it as a reciprocation as, with a giggle, she was suddenly at his back, her thin arms wrapped around his waist. It took all his will not to push her away, but he suddenly remembered why he summoned Lysa in the first place.

With a smile he hoped wasn’t a grimace, Petyr placed his goblet down, turned around and hugged her in return. Petyr silently counted until he could smoothly steer the conversation without her suspicion in being maneuvered.

“My love,” he gently said. “Have you had any success regarding my appointment as the Master of Coin?”   

“Oh Petyr,” she cooed into his chest, Petyr in turn rolled his eyes. “I’ve urged my husband to appoint you, but for some reason Jon is proving to be unusually resistant to my pleading.” Petyr internally scoffed at Lysa’s ability to manipulate anyone. “He says it is partly to do with your venture into the brothel industry-”

Petyr will not feel ashamed in opening up a brothel and so close to the Red Keep. It is already turning out profitable, particularly when his first and primary customer was the king himself. He thought back to the events that just happened earlier today. One of the recent whores that the king returned to him, crying and talking nonsense. Not one to deal with this sort of thing, Petyr left it to one of the other girls to help her.

From what he could glean from the babbling, Petyr discerned that the girl became pregnant with the king’s child and begged the king to turn his wife away so that they may be a real family. Petyr growled under his breath at the thought of not only the fall of profit-she was popular amongst his clientele-but the stupidity of the girl in thinking that the king will do such a thing. While the Queen was no beauty, she encompassed what the role was supposed to be and then more. Everyone knew who really wore the crown.  
“-Jon says that members of the Small Council have found the current Master of Coin adequate and see no reason to change him- well except for the Queen.” Intrigued, Petyr asked Lysa to elaborate.

“Well, the Queen is not overt in her opinions regarding him, but Jon has mentioned that Queen Brienne has no great affection for the man, even to say she might detest him.”

Petyr hummed, is eyes becoming calculative, and intrigued at the thought of the Queen as suddenly becoming an important part of his plans.

 

 

 

 

Varys

 

 

Varys stared at the smooth contours of Balerion the Black Dread’s skull, the familiar darkness a blanket that comforted him rather than frightened him. While his role as Master of Whisperers had him in the light of day, open to the sights of pompous lords and egotistical nobles, Varys equally spent his time in the dark. The songs of his little birds whispering in his ears, everybody’s secrets a fragile leaf in the wind that he plucks from the air.

 _Oh, how he loved the darkness,_ Varys thought with a smile.

He sensed rather than saw a presence come stand next to him.

“Hello, my friend,” Varys greeted his companion without turning to him. Plausible deniability and all that.

“I was hoping for a better scenery to meet,” was the greeting of Illyrio Mopatis. “Maybe somewhere I can drink wine without dragon dust to add to the taste.” The Spider smirked.

“Well?” Varys asked.

Illyrio hesitated before answering. “Ser Willem Darry has been long dead.”

Varys made no overt reaction, but he does clench his hands underneath his robes.

“The Targaryens?”

“The servants kicked them out after stripping any valuables within the house. Their whereabouts, unfortunately, is currently unknown.” Illyrio paused for any sort of reaction, but found none by Varys. “Do we proceed with our plans?” Varys is silent for a moment before answering. “We must wait until Viserys and Daenerys are found before we make any actions. Rhaegar is of no use.”

“What do you mean?” Illyrio asked.

“Rhaegar had become useless in his guilt over the fate of Elia and her children,” Varys explained. _Not like he thought of them once Lyanna came into his sights_ he internally scoffed. “When Lyanna disappeared from Dragonstone, taking with her their son Aegon, Rhaegar practically became catatonic.

“I’m afraid Rhaegar is naught but a shadow of his former self. In his current state, Rhaegar is not fit to be King.”   

“I had such high hopes for Rhaegar,” Illyrio sighed. “I must confess, I even had hopes that Robert Baratheon might overcome a lifetime of indulgence and selfishness to become a good king.” Varys makes an enigmatic smile, but underneath he was scoffing at any of Robert abstaining from any of his indulgences, particularly his drinking and his whoring. Already a slew of whores came out of the Red Keep either bruised by the king’s ‘passionate’ treatment of them or they came out with child. While Varys did all he could to help with the pregnant women, he knew there were more out there. He heard of a particularly and somewhat naïve girl from one of his little birds. He was told that instead of leaving the Red Keep, she went back to the king. Varys was confused, but all his little bird could find out was she was sent out crying and ordered to be sent to Pycelle. Something of a thought popped into his head, but Varys didn’t voice it, he wanted this thought to mature into fruition before action could take place. Vary turned to his friend with a conciliatory smile.

“Do not worry old friend, I have the feeling good tidings are coming to Westeros.”

“Because of the king?”

“Because of the Queen.”

 

 

 

 

Cersei Lannister

 

 

Cersei kept her chin up, her face fierce as a lioness she is as she made her way through the throng of people. She ignored their sneers and smirks and pity.

What right do sheep have, to judge a lion?

Cersei wanted to rip the skin off their faces, she wanted to send the ladies to Ser Gregor, she wanted to unleash the fury that was within her the day Robert humiliated her, the day her father belittled her, the day Jaime turned his back to her.

_All men are mice in the end._

Her heart clenched at the thought of her brother. _Her Other Half_. Cersei sat down at a stone chair that was conveniently hidden away inside a grove. Cersei thought back to that fateful day in Casterly Rock.

There she was on the cold marble floor, crying, screaming her heart out as Robert walked away, his Kingsguard following him, taking away her crown.

_I am Queen! I was fated to be Queen!_

Feeling Jaime coming closer – _she always felt his presence whenever he was close to her, which was always_ – she looked up, her eyes already pleading for her brother to help her. But for the first time in their shared lifetimes, Jaime didn’t once look at her. He completely disregarded her as he walked past, his white cape brushing against her that to her horror felt like a goodbye.

_No!_

Later that night she broke out of her chambers, sneaked pass the guards that Tywin put up to guard her door, more to keep her in than keep others out. But she knew how to pass guards undetected. She had experience, when younger, she would often sneak into Jaime’s chambers at night, the dark halls of Casterly Rock familiar, the correct route to his chambers an instinct within her breast. But he wasn’t there. His chambers empty of him.

Something like panic arisen within her and regardless about the babe in her womb, Cersei spent almost the entire night searching the grounds for him. Going to all the places that held special memories, haunting memories, memories that made her cunt wet even in her panic. Cersei even went outside in the cold night in order to see if Jaime was there. She would have continued on until a guard found her and practically forced her back to her chambers, even when she spat out threats to his face.

It wasn’t until in the morning when she was forced to break her fast in the presence of her father, that he coldly told her that the King and all those with him – _yes, even Jaime, his eyes told her_ – had already left and were on their way to Kings Landing. Leaving Cersei behind. Abandoning her fate to her father.

“M’Lady?”

A timid voice broke her out of her reverie and Cersei looked up to find the person she was here to see. Even when she looked to disappear in the voluminous robes, Cersei recognised the whore’s face anywhere. She may not be titled queen anymore – something that still to this day caused her to throw her glassware across the room, imagining the spilt wine to be Robert’s blood – but she still had some hold within the Red Keep. If it had to be one of Robert’s whores, then so be it. Cersei knew the Lannister gold was more powerful to some people than what laid between her legs.

Cersei tried not to grimace as she practically felt a waft of cheap perfume hit her face, the scent used as cover up but not strong enough to mask the stench of _whore_. Cersei put up a pleasant smile as she bid the girl to sit by her.

The whore smile cheerfully as she came to sit (uncomfortably) close to her.

“How are my dear?” Cersei asked, keeping up her smile.

“Oh I’m well m’Lady Frey,” the girl answered.

 _Lannister! You idiot whore!_ Cersei wanted to scream. _I will always be a Lannister_. But she kept silent.

“Despite the circumstance,” the girl continued, placing a gentle hand on her stomach, something that wasn’t lost on Cersei.

“Are you with child, my dear?” Cersei asked pleasantly. The girl looked up in excitement.

“Oh yes!” she answered with a big smile. “I hope that he will look like his father.”

“The father is not your husband?” Cersei asked, trying not to sound judgemental.

“No,” the girl answered, looking suddenly depressed. “But I love him so, so much!” she proclaimed so passionately, tears in her eyes. _So childishly_ Cersei thought with a silent roll of her eyes. “And I told him so, I told him if only he could leave his wife and be with me so we can be a _real_ family!” Suddenly the girl’s demeanour drastically changed. One moment she was this teary girl then suddenly her face turned ugly with anger and hatred. Cersei had a moment of thought that she was in the sudden presence of a monster. “I told him to get rid of her,” she growled. “But he rejected me, rejected _us_. He’s practically forcing me to get rid of it!” Then suddenly the monster disappeared and the pleasant girl came back. “But I’ll never rid of you,” she cooed at her stomach. “You’ll see, he’ll regret turning us away…”

Cersei watched, sitting back as the girl continued cooing at her stomach. Suddenly a thought popped in her mind, a plan sprung forth and for the first time a real smile appeared on her face.

“My dear,” Cersei said gently touching the girl to get her attention. “I think a lesson is in order.”

“A lesson?” the girl asked, confused.

“Yes,” Cersei said, anticipation rising in her heart. “A lesson in revenge.”

 

 

 

 

Selwyn Tarth

 

 

 

Selwyn watched as his daughter was dragged away for yet another bout of Robert’s peacocking across the Crownlands. It was yet another thing that Selwyn detested about their _beloved_ king, something he had no guilt to feel about whatsoever, despite what he said to Brienne whenever she saw his reaction to the way Robert treated her.

_To the way Robert treated her_

The thought had him clench the glass goblet in his hands, to the point the glass began to crack. Brienne may not have told him in so many words what happens between herself and her husband, but the way she walked and the way her pale face would turn away from him whenever he softly enquired, it did not take an idiotic fool to recognise what these signs were.

Brienne would never know that he had his own small group of spies within the Red Keep, all with the one mission on keeping an eye on his daughter and report to him frequently…and what he was told had him imagining all sorts of ways to bring the end of the Usurper.

 

 

 


	4. IV (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...um RL
> 
> Sorry!

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

IV

_Part 1_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

“I had no choice,” he said lowly. “I had to protect you.” Brienne narrowed her eyes.

“To _protect_ me?” she asked angrily. “Protect me from what?! From Robert? He had not done anything to warrant-”

“Done nothing!?” he hissed, which caused Brienne to jump, startled as though he roared it in her face. “Have you forgotten everything he had done to you throughout the years?” The memories conjured up in her mind, caused Brienne to blush. “He may not have physically abused you in any way that caused you bruises, but every touch caused you pain, every few gestures caused you doubt, every word spoken caused you humiliation and every time this happened I could not do anything as he was the king and your _husband!_ ” by the time he practically spat the last word out, Jaime had manoeuvred the young queen until he had her pinned to the wall, his hands pressing her wrists next to her head.

“You risked yourself,” she whispered, her eyes caught on his emerald gaze. “You risked _everything_ ,” _even me_ she thought, something about the thought made her flinch away from it.

“If in the end you are free, than the risks are my burden to bare, not you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I am never to be free,” she hissed. “The moment Robert placed his war hammer onto my shoulders, the moment the Septon placed that crown on top of my head, my fate had been sealed. You have just placed me from one gilded cage to another.”

“At least in this cage, you have more room to move,” hurt began to replace the anger in his eyes. “At least you have the leash in your hands rather than the collar around your neck.”

“Jaime-” she whispered despairingly.

“I love you,” his declaration caused her to sob, tears sprung forth from her eyes. “Enough to have allowed his death to happen.”

“To happen-?” she asked confused.

“I found about the plot days before that night and decided never to intervene.”

“How could you?” she hissed. “He was your king!”

“And you are my queen!” he hissed back. “Don’t tell me it has never occurred to you, not for a single moment, to wanting the king dead.”

“No, it has never occurred to me, never!” she disagreed readily. At his scoff, she practically shouted, “Only because while my duties as queen gave me purpose, my duties as his wife were at the bare minimum, if rare and the rest of the time I was too happy with you to care. I was happily in love with you to care about the life of the king.”

“Then why are you not happy?” he asked hoarsely, as though her declaration sucked the anger out of him, leaving only confused despair.

“How can I be happy, when you risk yourself to be ripped away from me, all because for my happiness?” she said, her palms on his cheeks, her face almost touching his. “Death should not be the seed to happiness Jaime. All it does is leave ashes in my mouth.” He still looked confused, and she did not have the heart or words to explain it to him. So all she could was kiss him, kiss him until the world disappeared and all that was left was them.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“…may the Warrior grant her courage, and to protect her in these perilous time,” the High Septon droned loudly, as he hovered the crown above her head. Brienne had the jewelsmith and metalsmith create her a new crown, a hoop crown made with Valyrian Steel, decorated with a jewel representing each Major House of Westeros, with the largest jewel, a big sapphire representing Tarth being shown right in front. “May the Smith grant her strength, so that she may bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show her the path she must walk and guide her through the dark places that lie ahead. In the Light of the Seven, I now proclaim Brienne of the House Tarth, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Royner and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” he then gently placed the crown on top of her head. It may have been light, but Brienne felt like the entire country’s weight placed heavily on her shoulders. She then looked at the audience who stood witness to her coronation, something she ignored for fear of fleeing if she looked closely at their faces. On one side stood at the front the Baratheons, the Martells, the Starks and the Arryns. On the other stood her father Lord Selwyn Tarth, the Lannisters and the Tyrells. No one was surprised when no other than the hostage, little Theon Greyjoy, was there representing the Iron Islands. The rest of the audience consisted of nobles of Minor houses.

With a silent sigh, Brienne stepped back and sat on the Iron Throne, making sure her gown was not wrinkled. While she would have preferred to wear full armour, she knew protocols had to be adhered to so that she would be above any scorn. She made a compromise and allowed the blue, sapphire gown to be large and free-flowing. For her chest area and torso, she had a decorative cuirass made with the Tarth sigil and with a more female shape, with her right arm protected with a pauldron, rerebrace and vambrace.

All decorative, all ceremonial and all to illustrate to _her_ people that while she is a woman and queen, she is also a warrior and their protector. Judging by some of their looks, the nobles understood what she was telling them.

“Long May She Reign!” came the booming voice of the High Septon.

“Long May She Reign!” came the exclamation of the audience. Then these words were then repeated by the commoners outside. Then the large crowd cheered and clapped and happily laughed as they now faced and accepted their new monarch.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Brienne watched with a tolerant smile as each Lord and Lady present came forth to her and vowed their allegiance and congratulations. She was relieved to have Lord Arryn (whom with Lady Arryn was one of the first to make his vow) stood steadfast next to her and whispered to her their names and locations, something even now she had trouble remembering. In an unprecedented move, each Lord presented her with a gift, something that had never happened before.

From the Starks, Lord Eddard Stark presented her with cloak and wolf pelt, with a hoarse voice told her, ‘Winter is Coming’.

From the Tyrells, Lord Mace Tyrell presented her with a large golden goblet, decorated with the roses and thorns of Highgarden. Brienne would have had to endure Lord Tyrell's asskissing if not for Lady Olenna Tyrell "Queen of Thorns" pushing her son away.

From the Arryns, Lord Jon Arryn presented her with a white falcon, in remembrance to let honour be one of the highest achievement to obtain.

From the Baratheons (their presence caused everyone to go silent), Lord Stannis and Lord Renly presented her with Robert’s Warhammer, proclaiming that Robert would have wanted one of the best warriors in the Seven Kingdoms to have it. (Brienne could see the tension between the brothers, for there was contention brewing as to whom will rule Storm’s End).

From the Lannisters, Lord Tywin Lannister presented her with a lion cub, proclaiming that as the lion cub grew to protect her, so shall the Lannisters. Brienne didn’t miss the look Lord Tywin gave his eldest son, whom stood protectively near her.

From the Martells, Prince Oberyn (Prince Doran was too ill to travel) presented her with a book which illustrated the stories about Nymeria Martell, Warrior Queen of Dorne. “From one warrior queen to another,” said Prince Oberyn in his distinct dornish accent. “Let her tales and exploits give light to good and sound advice on how to run a kingdom.”

Then came all the other minor houses until her father came before her. Brienne smiled brightly, as her father knelt before her and vowed proudly to her and her throne. He then presented her with a gift.

“Brienne, my daughter and queen,” Lord Tarth said with a loud voice. “I am so proud of you. Our house may be minor, but we have been a staunch and steadfast house that has endured many years of the country’s wars, battles, triumphs and failures. I present to you something which has been in our family’s possession for many years. From your mother’s father, the late Prince Duncan of House Targaryen,” gasps went out from the audience from this proclamation, with Brienne looking at him with shock and surprise. “His namesake, Ser Duncan the Tall, was able to save this and give to his wife and your grandmother Lady Jenny, from the fires at the Tragedy at Summerhall before he too perished.” Lord Selwyn opened the chest and presented to her a large, white dragon egg. With shaking hands, Brienne reverently held the egg to her lap. “May you burn long and brightly, and everlasting.” With this her father gave one last bow before walking away. Brienne looked down at the white egg in her hands, while the audience pretended to socialise while really observing their new queen with a rare item.

Suddenly the giant doors to the grand throne room opened. No one understood it significance until a hush came over the crowd. Hearing this Brienne looked up in time for the crowd to part and gain entrance to a surprise guest. The queen straightened as she watched as Rhaegar Targaryen walked slowly, limping through the aisle towards the Iron Throne.

Brienne took the time to observe the man. It seemed living in exile on Dragonstone did not do any good to exiled prince. His silver hair laid dirty and stringy on his head, his clothes seemed to just hang on his body, his handsome face was pale and gaunt, and his eyes were bloodshot and lifeless. Brienne held her hand up toward her queensguard as they stepped forward with their hands on their swords.

When Rhaegar finally made it to the steps that led to the throne, he practically collapsed to kneel before Brienne.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice coming through as though his throat was being strangled, his indigo eyes looking straight towards Brienne’s sapphire ones. “I’ve come to you in the name of House Targaryen, I Rhaegar vow my and my family’s allegiance to Queen Brienne, the First of Her Name.” He brought up a single black candle, its flame flickering.  

Brienne didn’t know what to say in return, so surprised was she, but she knew she had to say _something._ Brienne moved forward to speak but froze when the movement caused Rhaegar to break his gaze to look upon what was on her lap. Suddenly his face changed when his eyes set upon the dragon egg on her lap. Hunger and longing appeared in his eyes.

“The dragon has three heads,” he whispered, his eyes wide with joy, his lips turning into a smile. “Fire can’t kill the dragon.” Brienne looked down to see Rhaegar pull out a vial of something green from his robes, before it and the candle was thrown at her.

The last thing Brienne was aware of was everyone’s screams and Jaime’s roar before she was engulfed in flames.

*~*~*~*~*


End file.
